


Fireworks for a New Year

by GoodShipSherlollipop



Series: Journey [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Family, Fireworks, Flirting, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, New Year's Eve, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodShipSherlollipop/pseuds/GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: After some fun family time in getting their daughters to bed, Sherlock and Molly are ready to watch the television display of the London New Year's fireworks. But will watch it all before creating their own fireworks? Rated a light M for some of my clean, flirty, yet sensual brand of married Sherlolly love. Parentlock x 2, Sherlolly. (COVID-19 sub-series, part 19) If you want to view more of my writing, please go to fanfiction.net where I have the rest of my collection. Posted here for 2020_Twelve_Days_of_Sherlolly.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: Journey [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470725
Kudos: 6
Collections: 2020 Twelve Days of Sherlolly





	Fireworks for a New Year

**Author's Note:**

> I am rating this story as a light M, as you will see near the end. I think my readers know how much I enjoy showing married love between these two, and this is no exception. Nothing graphic, as usual, so the M rating is just to be safe due to suggestive themes and flirtation between them. I just enjoy showing a love that is so profound when the blessing of God rests upon it.

"Da-da!" Sherlock jerked his head back in surprise as Christina slapped her hand holding the rubber ducky into the tub, bringing up a spray of water and bubbles that splashed him fully in the face.

Molly stood next to him as he knelt at the tub, and she laughed. "I guess I should have warned you that the girls love having their bath together and splashing," she commented.

This was the first time he'd attempted to give their daughters a bath together since Molly had decided Christina was too big for the sink and could go into the big tub with her sister. Their first bath together had been Christmas night, and he'd missed it because he was driving Molly’s mum home after she spent the afternoon and evening with them for Christmas.

Sherlock swiped a hand over his face. He couldn’t exactly reprimand his younger daughter. She wouldn't understand. Besides, she'd said "Da-da" for once.

"Daddy, look at the boat," said Victoria, pushing around the Grandpa Pig boat bath toy that had been a Christmas present for Christina from Molly's mum. "Toot toot."

"Yes, princess, it's a very nice boat," he agreed, "but it's time for me to wash your body." He'd allowed the girls enough play time. He needed to be about the business of getting them clean.

"It will be easier if you wash Christina first," Molly advised him. "Then you can get her out of the tub and hand her to me."

"In that case, Victoria, you may continue to play with the boat until I have washed your sister," said Sherlock. He squeezed some jasmine and lavender baby wash onto a flannel, then gently washed Christina's hair and body while she continued to play with the ducky. 

When she was clean, Sherlock took her out of the bath and handed her to Molly, who wrapped their daughter in her hooded baby towel and cuddled her for a few moments. He wished he had his phone handy to take a photo of Molly with her cheek against Christina's that way. Molly had done the same when Victoria was a baby, always offering a little cuddle first before drying her hair and body.

He turned his attention back to Victoria and begin to wash her body, including her underarms, and she shrieked with laughter. She obviously took after Molly in being very ticklish.

By the time he was taking Victoria out of the bath to wrap her in a towel as well, Molly had finished getting Christina ready for bed and was holding her at her hip.

As Sherlock pulled the plug to drain the tub, he looked at the few bubbles that remained and suddenly thought about how nice it would be to have a bubble bath with Molly. They hadn't attempted a bath together in this house, even though they had been living here for a year and a half. It was definitely not as large as the bath in a hotel or the bed and breakfast where they had spent their honeymoon, but he was sure it was big enough to accommodate Molly and himself if she sat in front of him while he kept his legs to either side of her. Molly had mentioned Martha's hope to move out by the end of January, and her idea of babysitting the girls overnight when Valentine's Day occurred, to give Sherlock and Molly a night together. If that happened, Sherlock decided they would definitely have to have a bubble bath together. They'd had an extremely romantic on Valentine's night at the Ritz, when Molly had been pregnant with Victoria.

He didn't realise he'd been daydreaming for a little too long, until Molly's voice brought him back to reality. "Sherlock, are you going to let Victoria just stand there all night?"

He gave her a sheepish look and said, "I'll have to tell you later what I was thinking about."

He towelled Victoria dry and helped her get into her favourite pair of pyjamas that had pictures of the Frozen characters on it.

Sherlock glanced quickly at his watch. Good. There was still plenty of time to get the girls to bed and take the Christmas tree down before midnight arrived. He and Molly planned to watch the fireworks show with Martha on the telly, to mark the beginning of the new year.

He walked into Victoria's bedroom, and Molly followed with Christina. They had decided to try introducing Christina to bedtime stories as well.

Sherlock went to the bookshelf while Molly sat on the bed with Christina on her lap, Victoria beside her. He pulled out the 48 volume boxed set of Mr. Men books Victoria had received for Christmas. So far, between Molly and himself, they had read four of them, because story time only happened when Victoria was alert enough to enjoy it.

Sherlock took out six of them, obviously none of which he or Molly had read as yet, and brought them over to Victoria. "Which one would you like me to read to you tonight?" he asked.

Victoria shook her head at the first two. When she saw the third book that had a picture of one of Mr. Tickle, a Mr. Men character who had very long arms and enormous hands, she said, "This one."

Sherlock set down the other books and pulled Victoria onto his lap. "So," he said, "you have chosen Mr. Tickle." As he said the words, he tickled Victoria, who giggled.

Molly tickled Christina, who merely squirmed in her lap.

Sherlock began to read the story, instructing Victoria to turn the page for him as needed. When he read, "Mr. Tickle's extraordinary long arm went right up to the teacher, paused, and then - tickled!" Sherlock matched his words by tickling Victoria again.

Victoria giggled again and said, "Stop it, Daddy!"

Sherlock noticed that Molly did not try to do the same with Christina.

He continued to read. After he said the word "pandemonium", Victoria turned her head around questioningly. "What pand.." she paused and tried again. "Pand-mium?"

" _ Pandemonium _ ," Sherlock corrected, thinking it was indeed a very large word to have mentioned in a book that was meant for young children. Yes, Victoria was not yet three years old, which was the beginning of the recommended age range, but even so, a word like pandemonium certainly seemed a little advanced even for a three-year-old.

"It means a big mess," he said, offering her the simplest explanation he could think of.

Sherlock continued to read the rest of the book and at the last word, which was "tickled," he again tickled Victoria.

Mr. Tickle had tickled a lot of people during the day and caused a lot of havoc, so Sherlock was not surprised when Victoria said, "Mr. Tickle naughty."

"Are you naughty too?" said Molly teasingly for the first time since Sherlock had begun reading, and Victoria pouted. "I not naughty, Mummy. I good girl."

"Now, are you going to be a good girl and get into bed to sleep now?" asked Sherlock. "Baby Rose is waiting for you." He pointed at the doll he had carried up earlier for Victoria.

"No. Sing to me, Daddy," said Victoria as Molly rose from the bed with Christina, and Sherlock pulled back the duvet for Victoria to climb beneath.

"Such a demanding child, aren't you," he complained good-naturedly. He even knew how to do nursery rhymes these days, in fact, had looked up a great deal of them on YouTube so he would have a reasonable supply of them to sing when Victoria demanded he sing to her. Sometimes Molly did the same. Again, this was not every night, just when Victoria was not quite ready to go to sleep.

He began singing. "Down at the station, early in the morning, see the little puffer trains all in a row...."

This was one of Victoria's favourites, because she could join in on part of it with the parts of the song that repeated like, "Puff! Puff! Peep! Peep! Off we go!"

Molly also joined in on these parts, bouncing Christina lightly at her hip.

When they had finished the song,, Sherlock said, "Alright, you've had your story and song. Now you must go to sleep. Mummy and I will see you in the morning."

He bent down to kiss Victoria's forehead and tuck her in properly, then stood aside so Molly could do the same, holding Christina so Victoria could give her sister a kiss good night as well.

"Good night, sweetheart," said Molly as she stood back upright.

Sherlock switched off the light, causing the automatic night light to activate, and they left the room, closing the door softly behind them.

"I'm going to sit in the rocking chair for a few minutes with Christina," said Molly, and Sherlock nodded. Even though Molly had weaned Christina a week earlier, unless she was already sleepy, Molly like to soothe her for a few minutes before putting her in her cot.

"I'll bring up the boxes to put away the Christmas tree decorations," he told Molly. They had decided to do that this evening, because Molly was working tomorrow, on New Year's Day, even as she had worked earlier today. It would give them something to do as they waited for midnight and 2021 to arrive.

Molly nodded, and Sherlock kissed Christina, then headed downstairs to the storage area in the cellar. It took him two trips to bring up both the large box for the Christmas tree and the two for the decorations.

Martha was in the armchair Sherlock had silently deemed hers, just as he had always had "his" leather armchair at Baker Street, despite the fact that it was actually owned by his landlady.

"It will be sad to say goodbye to the Christmas tree," she commented. "It's such a symbol of hope and happiness. Once it's gone, there's nothing to look forward to again in the near future." She yawned.

"I know what you mean." She didn't even realise the truth of what she was saying in the context of Jesus's birth and the hope he had brought as the promised Saviour of the world. But Sherlock had to admit, he too felt a little melancholy about putting the decorations away for another year. What would the coming year bring? Surely it had to be a more positive one for the country in general? As for himself, yes, he hadn't done anywhere as much detective work as in other years, but 2020 had provided him with the opportunity to really bond more with his daughters when he'd taken on the role of full-time father for several months, and he didn't regret that at all. 

He knew Molly was getting tired of the amount of hours she was working, when she had initially planned to cut them to two days a week. The three 12-hour days she'd committed to, due to the pandemic, were taking their toll on her, even though he knew she wouldn't complain. He could see the fatigue on her face and in her expression at times, and he sensed how much she missed being home more with her family. But he also knew that Molly was stubborn. Until the situation in the country improved, she would do her duty as a loyal NHS worker.

On the plus side, this past week, Mike Stamford had asked if Molly would be interested in administering vaccinations when she was not busy with postmortems. After discussion with Sherlock, she had agreed, primarily for two reasons. Administering vaccinations placed Molly in the front line workers group for the vaccine herself, and she would receive hers next week, just prior to when she would begin administering doses herself. The other reason she had agreed was because she and Sherlock had decided it would be beneficial for her to get the vaccine while the chances of her being pregnant were very low. Clinical trials for the vaccines had not included pregnant women, so the possible side-effects of it were unknown. 

Coincidentally, this last week, Martha had received her own invitation to receive the vaccine, and she was scheduled for her first dose next week. When she received the letter, Sherlock had been rather amused by how Martha had said it was like receiving a late Christmas present.

Now, Martha yawned again and stood. "You know, I was planning to stay up and say goodbye to this dreadful year, but to be honest, I’m just too tired to bother. It isn't as if I’m really missing anything."

"True," agreed Sherlock. "If you want to see the fireworks display, it will undoubtedly be up on YouTube for anyone to view after the fact."

"Well," she said, stepping close to Sherlock and gesturing for him to bend down so she could place a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, and Happy New Year in advance. Tell Molly goodnight for me too. She has to work tomorrow, doesn't she?"

"Yes, business as usual. She especially requested to rearrange her schedule for last week to get the days off for Christina's birthday and Christmas, but she didn't want to inconvenience anyone by demanding these two days off as well, despite her seniority, which would have meant she could do so."

At that moment, the object of their conversation appeared in the doorway. "Got her to sleep," said Molly brightly.

"Oh, just in time for me to say goodnight," said Martha.

Molly looked surprised. "You aren't going to watch the telly with us at midnight to see the fireworks?"

Martha shrugged. "I was planning to, but I’m just too tired." Sherlock noticed her eyes narrow slightly at Molly. "Come to think of it, you look rather tired yourself, not that it's any wonder seeing as you only got home yourself after eight this evening."

Sherlock looked closely at his wife. He had been so busy getting the girls ready for their bath he hadn't really paid a lot of attention to Molly since she'd arrived home, and he could see Martha was right. There were tiny lines of fatigue around her eyes, and her eyelids looked heavy, as if she was having trouble keeping them open.

"Yes, I am rather tired, but I’m determined to stay up to ring in the new year with Sherlock."

"Then I suggest you take a little nap before that happens or you won't make it," said Martha in the reproving tone of a mother.

"I have to help Sherlock with putting the Christmas tree decorations away."

"No you don’t," said Sherlock in an emphatic tone. "Martha's right. you take a little rest on the sofa. I can take the tree down myself."

"Listen to your husband," said Martha, with a nod of approval at Sherlock. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," chorused Sherlock and Molly.

After she had gone, Molly said, "I really don’t need a nap, Sherlock. I can't let you take the tree down yourself."

"Of course you can," stated Sherlock firmly. "Martha is right, and you have to be up again early for work. I'd rather you take a little nap now, and then I'll wake you before midnight."

He could see Molly was too tired to argue by the way her shoulders drooped in defeat. "Alright."

She curled up on the sofa, head on a cushion, and Sherlock fetched a blanket to cover her. 

By the time he brought it to her, she was already asleep. He laid it over her gently and kissed her forehead, then set to work, removing the decorations from the tree.

He worked steadily for half an hour, removing the star from the top and unwinding the tinsel from around the tree. Then he removed the baubles, replacing them into their protective boxes. The last ones he removed were the ones Molly had bought for their first Christmas together - two big baubles, one with his name on it and one with her name. Then he removed the two smaller baubles they'd placed near the big ones. One had the name  _ Victoria _ , and the other,  _ Christina _ . He replaced them in the box, next to the four pain baubles. Would another of those baubles have a name by next Christmas? he wondered idly to himself, finding that the idea of it pleased him.

At last, the tree stood bare, and he disassembled it, looking over at Molly, who had not stirred.

By the time he had taken the boxes downstairs it was after eleven o'clock.

Molly was still peacefully sleeping, so he decided to take his shower and do his usual nighttime regimen of shaving and getting ready for bed. That way he and Molly could watch the fireworks display and then go straight to bed, and, hopefully a little loving. But he'd let Molly decide whether she was up to that, because she was the one who had to be up before six in the morning to get ready for work.

After his shower and shave, Sherlock put on a pair of boxers and his dressing gown, thinking it should be safe to go downstairs that way, now that Martha had gone to bed. For once, he wished he and Molly had a television in their bedroom so they could watch the broadcast in bed, comfortably naked, but then again, he didn't want to get into the habit of watching television before bed.

He returned downstairs. It was still half an hour till midnight, and he gently put a hand to Molly’s shoulder to wake her. "Sweetheart, do you want to take your shower now, before midnight? There's time."

She yawned and stretched. "That sounds like a good idea." Then she looked at him fully. "Rather bold of you to be wearing your dressing gown down here."

He shrugged. "Martha is in bed, and I am wearing boxers beneath."

Molly stood and gave him a coquettish look. "Too bad."

He swatted her bum as she turned towards the door. "Be off with you, woman. If you'd like to come downstairs afterwards in your dressing gown and nothing beneath it, I shall not object."

Another seductive look up at him from beneath her lashes. "I might think about it."

A delicious little thrill of anticipation ran through him at the thought.

She made a sudden exclamation. "Oh, I almost forgot."

"Hmm?"

"I left the hospital at lunchtime today for a few minutes."

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"To get something. I need to grab it from my handbag."

He looked after her with curiosity as she left the room to go to where she always placed her handbag after work, out of reach of their daughters.

She was back within a couple minutes holding a long, thin, rectangular box which he immediately recognised.

"A pregnancy test? Are you telling me you think you might be pregnant again?" The thought of it didn't displease him, he realised.

She shook her head vehemently. "Not at all. I don’t have any symptoms like last time when I started getting sick. I just thought it might be a good idea to rule it out before I have my first COVID vaccination on Monday."

"I see. That makes sense."

"Well, I'm going to take it before my shower. I'll be back down shortly."

Sherlock looked at his watch. "You'd better get a move on or you'll miss the countdown. It's only twenty minutes away."

"I'm not going to bother washing my hair, so I won't be long." She left the room, and he seated himself comfortably on the sofa to wait for her.

True to her word, Molly was back in the space of thirteen minutes, and he heard her enter the room, then watched as she dropped the baby monitors on the coffee table. He gave her an expectant look. While she was gone, he'd been thinking it might be quite nice if she was pregnant again. He liked not having to deal with her monthly visitor, had scarcely had to contend with it thus far, aside from the weeks after giving birth when they had been unable to make love as her body recovered. "Well?"

She knew what he was asking. "Negative, like I thought," she answered, and he couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit disappointed.

"Oh." 

Apparently it showed on his face, because she asked, "Are you disappointed?"

His lips turned upwards. "Perhaps a little. I was just thinking about how much I enjoy being able to make love with you at any time without having to deal with several days a month where that isn't possible."

She giggled. "Well, I guess we've been lucky with that so far, but I'm kind of relieved I'm not pregnant just yet, or we’d have to rethink whether I should get the vaccination.”

He couldn't argue with that. 

“Anyway," she pointed down at herself, "I was hoping you'd comment on what I'm wearing."

He couldn’t believe he'd been so caught up in daydreams of fatherhood again that he hadn't noticed. She wasn't wearing the blue dressing down she had long ago purloined from him and declared to be hers from that point onwards. She was wearing her own dressing gown she had worn before that time, a short one that barely covered her thighs.

He licked his lips, suddenly wondering what was beneath. Had she been daring enough to put on the dressing gown and nothing else? "Are you wearing anything underneath that very short, very sexy dressing gown?"

She tossed her head and gestured at the blank screen of the television. "You'll have to wait and see. Are you going to turn on the telly so we know when it's midnight?"

"I suppose so. Come, sit next to me." He bent forward and retrieved the remote, tuning the television on as Molly sat beside him, displaying a long length of shapely thigh as she did so.

He was tempted to slide his hand up her thigh to discover if she was wearing anything under the dressing gown, but restrained himself. If he did that and discovered what was, or hopefully was  _ not _ beneath, he wouldn't even notice the countdown. Instead, he placed his arm around her shoulders and they watched.

With a minute to go, the countdown began to flash on the BT Tower.

As the countdown ended, an image displayed of Big Ben, and it began to chime. "Oh," said Molly in hushed tones, turning to look at Sherlock, "isn't it lovely to hear Big Ben again after so long? I'm so glad they activated the chimes for this." He was surprised to see tears fill her eyes, but then again, that was his sweet, sensitive wife.

"Happy New Year, darling," he whispered.

"Happy New year, my love."

And he kissed her for as long as the familiar gongs of Big Ben lasted. He felt the salty tang of her tears as they reached his lips, and he raised his hands to her face to gently brush at them with the pads of his thumbs. He instinctively understood that her tears were not only a reaction to hearing Big Ben again after so long, but the relief that a difficult year was over and a new one with more promise lay ahead. He knew it, because he felt that way himself.

When their lips parted, he moved to change position on the sofa, placing his one leg up on it against the back and inviting Molly to come into the warmth of his embrace.

She did so, pressing her body back against his, and his chin rested lightly on her shoulder so they could watch the fireworks display and listen to the narrative.

_ "In the year of 2020 a new virus came our way...." _

News reports talked about various things that were done to contend with the virus, like the 9 day construction of the Nightingale hospital.

An image appeared on the television screen alongside the fireworks, a light display of a dove with moving wings.

"How extraordinary," Sherlock murmured in Molly’s ear. "I wonder how they managed such a feat."

She turned slightly, pressing her cheek against his. "Could they have somehow used drones that they could programme individually to create the effect?"

His arms, looped about her, tightened. "My clever darling, I'm sure you're right."

A few moments later, she said, "Oh, look at how those fireworks are making the heart shapes, I've never seen that before."

"Me neither."'

She lifted her knees upwards and snuggled even closer, and her dressing gown slid so it exposed even more of her thighs. Heat began to surge within him at the thought again of discovering for himself if she was naked beneath. Was she deliberately trying to tempt him? If so, she was doing a very good job.

_ Control yourself, _ Sherlock told himself sternly, forcing himself to watch and listen as there was talk of the "Clap for Carers" and the light show changed to display  _ NHS _ inside the shape of a heart. The light display was definitely more interesting that the fireworks. A television screen really couldn't show the colours or enormous dimensions of the fireworks.

A woman's voice said, "Captain Tom Moore set out to raise one thousand pounds for the NHS. He's raised just a little bit more than that."

Sherlock had to smile at the ironic tone of the woman's voice.  _ Little bit more _ indeed! He remembered a few months ago checking on the total which was at over £25m. He considered reaching across to the coffee table for his phone to do a search for the current total amount raised by Captain or rather,  _ Sir _ Captain Tom now, he reminded himself, but decided against it. He liked having Molly close to him this way, even if her closeness was continuing to cause his body to react as it often did to her nearness with anticipation of what lay ahead.

"Oh, that's amazing!" exclaimed Molly, reacting to the light display image that appeared of a man with a walker. Sherlock was truly impressed by the work involved in preparing these images.

The image raised its hand as the voice of Captain Tom said, "Thank you all very much."

The next image to appear was amusing, and it was one Sherlock knew many people could relate to with having to do group telework from home. "You're on mute."

Molly giggled. "I'm guessing that's a phrase people never heard of before this past year," she commented.

"Probably not," he agreed, feeling her hand start to move back and forth along the leg he had propped up beside her on the sofa. She was rubbing beneath the dressing gown too, rather than over it.

Sherlock was distracted from what was happening on the television screen. If she was going to do provocative things, he was going to do them as well. Boldly, he removed a hand from around her waist to slip it inside her dressing gown, and he drew in his breath. A naked breast met his hand, and he caressed it, causing Molly to give a little moan.

The fireworks were forgotten as Sherlock explored further, discovering to his delight that, as he had hoped, she was wearing nothing beneath the dressing gown. She made another little moan as his hand moved along her sensitive flesh.

"I think," he said huskily, "that we can forgo the rest of the fireworks and make some of our own. What do you say, baby?"

Her voice was a little breathless as she said, "We really shouldn't. What if Martha comes down and sees us? Maybe we should go upstairs." Despite her words of caution, he felt her own hand reach behind her to do her own brand of teasing.

His own breath caught at her boldness. "Molly, my love, you started this precipitately, but I'm going to finish it." He gestured at the monitors on the coffee table which showed two children in slumber. "I'm sure Martha is in the land of dreams like our daughters by now. She went up to bed quite some time ago." And even if she wasn't, at this point, he didn't particularly care. It was his home, after all, and if he wished to make love to his wife in every room of the house, well, that was his right. They had been very circumspect in restricting their marital activities to the bedroom since Martha had moved in, and he was definitely going to enjoy the change of venue for once.

And as the fireworks exploded on the television screen, followed by David Attenborough's talk about making the world a better place in 2021, Sherlock and Molly enjoyed their own private fireworks as they expressed their love with their mouths, their hands and their bodies.

_ Indeed _ , Sherlock thought, as he held Molly against him afterwards so they could catch their breath before going upstairs to bed,  _ this is a very promising start to 2021 _ .

Xoxox

Upstairs, Martha lay in bed again, after thinking twice about her proposed trip to join Sherlock and Molly in watching the fireworks on the telly. She had awakened suddenly a couple minutes past midnight.

She'd been almost to the bottom of the second flight of stairs when she'd heard the evidence of a different kind of fireworks and had crept back upstairs.

_ Oh yes, _ she thought fondly of her favourite couple,  _ I definitely need to get back to Baker Street soon. _

A smile crossed her lips. She had a good feeling about 2021.

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to do a little one-shot for New Year's Eve! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the family interaction with the girls. I like to include them as part of each story. They are an important addition to my Holmes family, and I continue to enjoy showing these sweet little girls as they pass various milestones. 
> 
> Thanks to theonewithwheelsASH as usual, for providing a link to the London fireworks display and her idea to have Molly, rather than Sherlock, guess that the light display was created by drones. According to an article also supplied by my friend, there were over 300 drones used for this purpose, and I am quite astonished at how it was done.
> 
> Were you a fan of the Mr. Men stories growing up? And are you familiar with that nursery rhyme? I looked up British nursery rhymes on YouTube, and remember that one about puffer trains from being a child in Australia.
> 
> The named ornaments from this story were introduced in _First Christmas - Take Two_
> 
> In reference to Captain Tom, to date he has raised almost £33m for the NHS.
> 
> And "You're on Mute", I just had to include that tidbit, because it is so true that even commercials here include it (like Progressive ads)!
> 
> Did you like the passion and fireworks? I hope so. And I had to include a little bit of Martha at the end.
> 
> May you all have a blessed 2021 and improvement upon the past year. There are many things we cannot control, but we can control our attitude towards them and keep a positive outlook.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. I always respond to comments, so please check your email to see my response or come back to the story later and look for it.


End file.
